She smiled. “Then I am doomed.”
“I will ignore your teasing for tonight,” he chided playfully. “But please, remember what I have said.”
“I will keep to the plan. I will be safe. I will call for you the moment there is danger on the horizon,” she replied.
“At least that may give me some relief. Now, you should go, before people really do start to suspect there is something strange afoot between you and I.” He released her hand. With one final exchange of weighted looks, Victoria left him in the corridor and went to join Miss Longacre in the subtle, yet obvious, farewells that they had to execute before they could depart.
However, as she reached the carriage, all of the farewells having been made, Victoria hesitated. Her hand gripped the doorframe, her knuckles whitening. She had made that promise to Christian in good faith, but he didn’t understand plots and schemes the way that she did. Sometimes, they went awry. And, sometimes, a little improvisation was needed.
I will do whatever I have to, in order to succeed. Christian, I hope you will forgive me if a moment comes, this night, where I cannot keep my promise to you. Taking a deep breath, she climbed into the carriage and sat down opposite Miss Longacre. A second later, the carriage trundled away, headed for the townhouse where all chaos could very well break loose.
“I don’t know if I will be able to sleep,” Miss Longacre murmured, as Victoria sank down in one of the armchairs by the fire in her chamber.
“You do not have to sleep, Miss Longacre, though it may help make the night go faster.” Victoria tapped her foot impatiently, gazing at the window. Moonlight glanced in, casting a silvered streak through the drapes and across the wooden floor. They were out there, somewhere. Lying in wait. The men who had sought to destroy the peace of high society.
“How do you do it?” Miss Longacre loitered uncertainly by the bed.
Victoria frowned. “Do what?”
“Face this sort of thing without fear.”
Victoria snorted. “I have a secret.”
“A secret?”
“Oh yes. You see, the secret is… I am always scared in situations like this, but I have learned how to bury it so deeply that it cannot be seen upon my face,” Victoria replied.
“You truly are scared?” Miss Longacre sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Petrified. But I would rather die than let any criminal see that. I have faced men three times my size, in height and breadth, and I have growled and snarled and snapped at them as though I were a rabid wolf, forcing them to back off. Was I scared? Absolutely. Did they know? No way.” Victoria fixed Miss Longacre with a reassuring glance. “I will protect you tonight. I swear it. You may trust in this rabid wolf.”
Miss Longacre shuffled back on the bed and slipped beneath the covers. “I suppose I may try to sleep, then.”
“I urge you to.” Victoria got up and went to the door. “I will be next door. All you have to do is shout, if you feel frightened, and I will be beside you in no time.”
“Thank you, McCarthy.” Miss Longacre lay her head on the pillow and stared at Victoria.
“It is my pleasure.” With that, she left the chamber and closed the door behind her. However, she did not go to the next-door bedchamber, as she had promised. Instead, she headed down the narrow passageway between the rooms and crouched low, sitting with her back to the wall so she could see the end of the passage, and the corridor that crossed behind it.
She felt along her thigh for the pistol she had strapped there and searched the other for her hidden blade. Both were where they were supposed to be. And so was she. Armed and ready, if anyone tried to reach Miss Longacre’s door, Victoria would jump on them before they even knew what was happening.
Chapter 21
Christian crouched in the bushes, with the Admiral beside him. He didn’t know what the hour was, but it had to be late. He had arrived in a separate carriage, which he had urged to deposit him a short distance from the townhouse. From there, he had walked, and let himself in through the back gate, where he had found Benedict already waiting.
From his hiding place, he had heard the approach of another carriage, on the opposite side of the house. After which, he had heard the muffled chatter of Victoria and Miss Longacre, letting him know that they had returned. Everyone was in place. All they had to do was bide their time and hope that the kidnappers would take the bait.
“You knew Victoria’s father, did you not?” Christian needed to do something, or say something, before he lost his wits.
Benedict shifted into a more comfortable position. “Aye, I did.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“I’ve a feeling you’re going to, whether I say you can or not.” Benedict patted Christian on the shoulder.
“Did he mean for her to end up entangled in his world?” Christian peered up at the window, where he knew Victoria would be, no doubt putting Miss Longacre at ease.
“She were a stubborn soul, even as a child.” Benedict sighed. “But—and I loved her father like a brother, so don’t mistake my meaning—I wonder where she’d have ended up if he’d had a son. He always wanted one, but that sweet, long-suffering wife of his couldn’t bear any more children. She had a hard birth with Victoria. I were there, with Solomon, when she came into the world. Well, we were stood outside the bedchamber, like a pair of shivering cowards,” he chuckled gruffly. “But she couldn’t have any more children after that. I guess the Lord only chose to bless her with the one. And what a wonderful creature He gave her. Better than any son, if you ask me.”
“So, her father treated her as though she were a son?” Christian longed to know more of her history. All of it, if he could, by the time his days on this earth were done.
“Aye, I suppose you could say that. She showed an interest, one day, and that were the end of it. After that, Solomon took her everywhere with him, taught her the trade, taught her everything he knew, and even learned a thing or two from her.” Benedict’s eyes glistened proudly.
“Do you not worry that it might prove too much for her, one of these days? She takes each case so personally, especially when it comes to children—or so I have heard. How can any person endure that much weight, and not have it crush them?” Christian’s heart felt heavy.
Benedict furrowed his brow. “I’ve worried about that often enough, myself. She may be stronger than she looks, but there’s only so much strength can do. In truth, I can’t answer that. I honestly don’t know. I hope not, for it will mean a star has gone out in this dark city, and it can little afford that.”
“Do you think anything can protect her?” Christian pressed.
Benedict cast him a sideways glance. “Perhaps.”
“What? You must tell me!”
Benedict smiled sadly. “You, My Lord.”
Christian spluttered, not knowing how to respond.
“I’ve seen the way you two are when you’re together. Reminds me of my own wife and I, when she lived,” Benedict continued. “I’ve done what I can to love her as if she were my own, and shelter her whenever she’d let me, but that’s not the kind of love she needs now. She doesn’t need a father; she needs a husband. One who’ll take her as she is, and let her be, but be there to hold her and support her when that weight you mentioned gets too much. If you’re the one to do that, then don’t you let her down. Don’t you get her hopes up and dash them. And don’t you do her wrong. Or you’ll have me to answer to—Earl or no.”
Does everyone know, before I have even told Victoria how I feel?
“I could never do any of those things to her,” Christian said, after a pause.
“But there’s a fiancée, ain’t there?”
Christian nodded slowly. “There is, but… it is not what you think. Our families decided we ought to be betrothed, but she and I never loved one another in that way. And, if recent suggestions are to be believed, my fiancée loves another, as do I.”
“So, you do love my Victoria, then?” Benedict�
�s eyes widened in wonder.
“I do, Admiral. I just have yet to tell her that.” He gave a wry laugh. “I wanted to wait until Helena had been returned safely, and I had spoken with her about my change of heart, before I told everything to Victoria. As you have said, I didn’t want to make promises until I could be certain they would not be false.”
“That’s wise, My Lord.” Benedict clapped him on the back again, almost dislodging a lung. “And take it from an old man, who’s seen the worst and the best of this world—choose happiness, always. Even if it’s the tougher path, you choose happiness.”
Christian smiled. “I will try, Admiral. Goodness, I will try.”
Several hours passed by, with the house sitting in silence, peppered only by the occasional creak, or the sound of an owl hooting from the darkness of the garden. Most of the staff had traveled ahead with the Viscount and Viscountess, whilst those who remained had already retired for the night.
Meanwhile, Victoria stayed alert, flitting between her crouched position and peering furtively out of the window, so she could look upon the shadowed landscape beyond.
Every time she glimpsed out there, she thought of Christian. But she couldn’t see him, nor Benedict. They had hidden themselves well, which she supposed was a good thing, even though she keenly wished to see them, if only to comfort her fractured nerves.
When will they come? What if they do not come? What if I have failed again? What if I sit here all night, only to discover, when morning comes, that another young lady has been taken? These thoughts repeated in her mind, until she felt she might topple over the brink into insanity.
The creak of a floorboard splintered through the still house. Nothing too out of the ordinary, for the house moved and groaned of its own accord. Nevertheless, Victoria sank down as low as she could and listened intently with pricked ears.
A scrape rasped, like wood being dragged against more wood. It was a quiet sound, barely discernable, coming from the lower floor of the house. Victoria wracked her brain, trying to think of what it could be. A window being opened, perhaps? Or someone emerging from a hiding place within the house? Like that chest in Lady Jane’s armoire.
Holding her nerve, she continued to listen. A few moments later, she heard the soft scuffle of bare feet upon floorboards. Another creak followed, jangling in Victoria’s ears.
They are downstairs… They are in the house… This is not going to work… The notion erupted in Victoria’s mind. Even if she called for assistance, any disturbance would send the kidnappers running. And that meant they might lose their opportunity to capture them, which would only make them warier going forward. As a result, this mission would become increasingly difficult. Perhaps impossible.
I have to act, and quickly. Victoria got up and hurried to the end of the passageway, treading carefully so she didn’t make a sound. Peering down the hall, she heard the whisper of voices coming from below, in the entrance hall.
Cursing under her breath, Victoria darted toward Miss Longacre’s bedchamber and let herself in. She stole across to the bed and placed her hand across Miss Longacre’s mouth, before stirring her awake.
“Stay silent and do as I say,” Victoria whispered.
“What do you mean?” Miss Longacre mumbled in reply, her voice muffled by Victoria’s hand.
“This way.” Victoria pulled Miss Longacre out of her bed and dragged her back over to the door, where she looked out to make sure the coast was clear. The kidnappers had not reached the first floor yet, likely doing their own checks before they approached their victim.
Good. I still have time. Victoria hauled Miss Longacre toward a door opposite, which proved to be little more than an airing cupboard. Without explanation, Victoria pushed her newfound friend inside and lifted a finger to her lips.
“Be quiet as a mouse. Do not make a sound, no matter what you hear. Do you understand?” Victoria urged, in a hushed tone.
Miss Longacre blinked in sleepy confusion.
“Miss Longacre, do you understand?” Victoria pressed. “You have to stay absolutely silent. Do nothing. Do not even move or breathe unless you really have to.”
After a few seconds, Miss Longacre nodded.
“I will come back for you,” Victoria said, though she knew it was a lie. She would not be the one coming back for Miss Longacre. That task would have to fall to Benedict and Christian, once they realized what Victoria had done. Or, what she hoped to do, if everything worked out the way her hastily-gathered plan desired.
As quietly as possible, Victoria closed the cupboard door and tiptoed back across to Miss Longacre’s now-vacant bedchamber. There, she went straight to the armoire and took out a hooded cloak, throwing it about her shoulders and lifting the hood over her head so it concealed her face just enough.
This has to work. This has to work. This has to work. But she was fast running out of time. With the hood flapping in her face, she ran to the bureau and plucked up the quill there. Dipping it into ink, she rapidly scratched a letter to Christian and Benedict:
I had to improvise. Forgive me. These men would have escaped if I had not. I had to try something else, in order to save our task from failure. I am taking the carriage and traveling to Miss Longacre’s country home, in the hopes it will lead the kidnappers away and inspire them to act. If something befalls me along the route, I will leave a trail for you to follow. Come and find me. Bring support. That is the only way we will capture these men. We need to be as stealthy and clever as they have been. This is the only way. And, once again, forgive me.
V.
Christian and Benedict would be furious when they found this letter, but Victoria could not worry about that now. The kidnappers were on their way up here, and she had to get past them before they seized her, and found she was not the quarry they were looking for. Or, at least, not their primary target.
Clearing her throat, she fixed the edges of her hood and clasped the note. Replacing the quill in its stand, she strode back over to the doorway and out into the hall. There, she slipped the note under the cupboard door where Miss Longacre hid and prepared for action.
“Laura, Christian, are you sure you will be well enough here?” She emulated Miss Longacre’s sweet voice with deft precision. Even in childhood, she had been an exquisite mimic. “I can arrange for my driver to take you and your cousin back to your townhouse before I leave—it will be no trouble?”
“No, no, you go on ahead. Your mother and father are likely fretting over your whereabouts—they will be eager to see you as soon as possible. Besides, Christian is fast asleep, and I should hate to wake him. I will sit and read at his bedside a while longer, and then retire,” Victoria replied to herself in her own voice, marking the stark difference between the two.
“I am sorry that I cannot wait until morning, Laura. I no longer feel safe here in London. I thought I could manage, but… no, it is better that I go now.” Even Victoria would have been fooled by the perfection copy of Miss Longacre’s voice, if she did say so herself.
“You are taking a chaperone, yes?” Victoria replied, in her own voice.
“Of course. I am no fool.” Victoria performed Miss Longacre’s charming laugh, before continuing in character. “Goodnight, Laura. And please, bid Christian a goodnight for me, too, when he awakens. I will visit with you again when I return from the country. The staff will attend on you in the morning, and make sure you are fed before you go home.”
“Goodnight!” Victoria called back, in her voice. “Travel safely and do write to let us know you have arrived.”
“I will.” Victoria smiled as she completed the ruse in Miss Longacre’s voice, though she reasoned the real Miss Longacre would be extremely confused by what was going on.
Adjusting her cloak, Victoria set off down the hallway and paused at the top of the staircase. As she had anticipated, the kidnappers had vanished into the gloom, no doubt hiding now they knew that Christian and herself were at home, also. Making sure she kept her hood over her fa
ce, she breezed down the stairs and made her way to the front door. Opening it, she heard a slight, muffled sound behind her.
That’s right, you vermin… follow me at your peril.
She strode out into the cold night and approached Christian’s carriage, which still waited out on the street, as per Christian’s instruction. The driver, who went by the name of Simon Green, sat atop the bench and peered down at her in surprise.
“Will you take me to Whitfield Towers, near Herefordshire? Lord Galbury has insisted upon it,” she whispered, so the kidnappers would not hear, even though they had the closed door between them.
“At this hour?” Simon replied.
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